Perfect Canvas
by bellarke
Summary: She leans on her knees again and they carry on in silence. He traces shapes on her back; circles, squares, little raven birds. He likes to draw, and she's his perfect canvas.


**A/N**: So this is a request from kingmurphyslaw over on Tumblr as part of my 1,000 followers open prompts! I was super excited when she asked for Wick/Raven because, honestly, after Bellarke they're my second OTP on the 100. I'm glad you said that I was free to play with the prompt, but I kept it within the parameters of Wick comforting Raven in the wake of Finn's death.

I really hope you love it - please leave me some feedback, guys. Writing Wick's POV and figuring out his character was so much fun! He's a **big-time potty mouth** in this, so if swearing offends you I apologize.

Onward!

* * *

**ONE**

'I said I don't want to talk about it,' she says again.

It's louder this time, and so he hears it over the rush of people that pass them by as Raven walks away from him, through the dropship hallways and back to engineering. She doesn't want to talk about it right now, that much he knows for sure. But Wick also thinks she needs to, and he knows her pretty damn well if he does say so himself. Working with someone for a couple of years, especially somewhere as confined as the Ark, left room for relationships to develop. Acquaintances, friendships, hell sometimes people fell in love. Raven did, and so did Wick, but it just so happened his dream girl was taken.

And now her boyfriend is dead, so it's hardly the time, right?

The door to engineering slides open and Raven walks through it; she's trying hard to march, stomp or thud away from him, but her leg brace already malfunctioned once today and that's the last thing she needs. But if Raven Reyes is something, it's anything but graceful. She's rough and tumble, she's tough as anyone, and as hard as she is on the outside she's fucking ocean deep on the inside – or whatever the fuck those famous author-types used to say. Not that Wick has ever actually seen the ocean, but he imagines it to be a lot like her; deep, kind of terrifying and _stunning_. He's quite happy to think it, but _God_ it aches when he thinks about how he can't say it. He fucking loves her, but it's not right.

He closes the door behind them and then folds his arms across his chest, watching as she finds a stool – _his_ stool, actually, at _his_ desk – beside the window and sits down. She has her back to him, but he knows the look on her face like he knows his own name. He also knows she's out of tears, and it's time to talk about it.

'Look, Reyes –'

'Leave me alone, Wick.'

'I'm trying to help.'

'And you're failing spectacularly,' she remarks, and she turns to face him. 'I know what you're doing.'

'Yeah well,' he says, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He levels their gazes from across the room. 'I know you, and I know what you need, even if you don't want to admit it.'

Raven hardens her jaw and turns back to the window.

'I don't want to talk about Finn.'

Wick opens his mouth to tell her, to plead with her to just let it out, but he's beaten to the line and the door behind them opens to reveal one of the guards.

'Chancellor Griffin has asked for you,' the guard says to Wick.

Her voice is low, and he wonders if there's a reason she sounds so sombre. He nods and the guard leaves, but Wick takes pause and he looks back to Raven. She's back to looking out the window and she doesn't flinch when she speaks.

'Just go, Wick. I don't want to talk about.'

* * *

A couple of nights later, she's drunk. The alliance with the grounders is holding together, thanks to Clarke and Octavia Blake more than anything, and Camp Jaha feels like celebrating. Whatever, Wick thinks, as he stands in a secluded doorway and watches people laughing and drinking from afar. He sees Raven, swaying from side to side and with the fire and the moonlight on her skin, she is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen – and he's seen the stars up close, for fuck's sake. He rubs his eyes with one hand, tries to rub some sense into himself and inevitably it doesn't work. He sighs, opens his eyes once more and looks up, and there she is.

An empty bottle of something in one hand, the other playing with the little bird necklace that's swinging low around her chest. Wick swallows and looks everywhere else, but she's intent and her eyes bore into his face. She smiles; it's lop-sided and loaded as hell, and Wick wants to crush the damn butterflies that have taken flight in his stomach.

'Drunk's a good look on you, Reyes,' he says before he can stop himself. He bites his lip and if he does it any harder he'll bleed, but he doesn't care. Anything to take his mind off the damn girl in front of him, swaying her hips in time with the music in her head and looking up at him through hooded eyes. He looks back and it's not long before he's smirking and then chuckling and then she's laughing too.

She moves beside him and sits down, puffing out air loudly and discarding the empty bottle.

'You know,' he says, sitting down next to her. 'Littering on the Ark is a crime.'

'Is it a capitol one?' she says, and Wick misses the bitter tone it comes in. He chuckles.

'What'll they do, lock you in the Skybox?'

She sobers somewhat at that, shaking her head.

'They'd float me for sure…' she whisper s.

She looks up at the stars, her lips settling into a thin line. It takes a moment, and she sighs a couple of times, opens her mouth like she wants to say something and then closes it once more. Wick nudges her gently, shoulder to shoulder, and the corners of her mouth pull up a little. But still there's tears in her eyes, and she sniffs them back before she speaks.

'Finn would be alive today,' she says slowly, like the words are treacherous to her and if she speaks too candidly, she'll break. But she defies herself and carries on. 'If they'd just done that already.'

The words bite Wick like nothing before and he has to shake the thought out of his head. To lose Raven would be…_ fuck_, he hates himself for this.

'I'm glad they didn't,' he says gently, avoiding her eyes and choosing instead to join her in gazing up the stars. He hears a sharp intake of breath to his left and quickly continues. 'It's not about Finn,' he says, chancing a glance at her. She's leaning forward, elbows on her knees and right cheek pressed to her forearm. Her big brown eyes are boring into him and it feels like she can see all the way into his heart. _God_, what would she do if she realized she was the only thing in there?

'I don't know how I'm supposed to do anything of this without him,' she whispers, her chin trembling. Her breath hitches and tears start to glisten in her eyes. 'He's all I had.'

Wick reaches over and grazes his fingertip across her cheek.

'Not anymore,' he says with a smile. 'You got all those delinquents.' She almost smiles. 'You got Clarke, and Bellamy – by the way are they together, or what?'

Not that he actually cares, but it makes her smirk and that's all that matters. He pulls his hand back, but not too far, and he lets it fall onto her shoulder. She doesn't shrug it off. If anything, she relaxes into it. Wick bites his lip.

'And you have me,' he says, grinning in his self-deprecating way. _Fucking idiot_, he thinks to himself, but that soon fades away when he realizes she's still looking at him, and her eyes have softened and it might be the alcohol but it might be something else entirely and could he actually kid himself into thinking that it might be?

'Yeah,' she says, and it's the sweetest sound he's heard in a good long while. 'I have you.' She looks away then, eyes forward to the rest of Camp Jaha. The rescued 47 are home, and Clarke is working on plans for the Ark survivors to head to the ocean. Everything's… working out, Wick likes to think. Raven leans back, closer to him.

'Those kids are new to me still,' she muses. 'I knew Finn my whole life… and after that,' she turns to Wick, sighing happily. 'After that there's you. Years and years, bickering over who's right when you knew it was me all along,' she smirks. Wick grins, biting down on his bottom lip, and looks away.

'Not true,' he says, but she's actually chuckling again and he would do anything to hear that sound over and over.

'You know it's true.'

'Whatever,' he says, with faux-offense and a hurt look as he places his hand over his heart. Raven's chuckling quietens down and she's still looking at him, all glass-eyed and doe-eyed and gorgeous-eyed at the same time. Wick scratches the back of his neck.

'You know you're easy to talk to when you're drunk,' he says off-handedly.

'I'm always easy to talk to,' she protests, scoffing.

'Only if people know how to handle you,' he replies, turning to her and leaning in a little.

'And you know how to handle me, huh?' she challenges, meeting him in the middle.

'You're damn right I do,' he smirks, and she bites her lip as she eyes his.

'Because you know me.'

That stops him. Wick takes a breath; he's already defenceless in how close they are. She so easily breaks down any walls he has and saunters her way into his heart, and now all she seems to do is occupy his mind, too. She's still watching his lips when he backs up.

'Yeah,' he says gently. 'I know you.'

And he's right. So he backs away, and he doesn't kiss her even though every last little bit of him is burning with wanting to. Her gaze has dropped and he understands, so he sits back against the wall and he rubs her back, up high near her neck. She leans on her knees again and they carry on in silence. He traces shapes on her back; circles, squares, little raven birds. He likes to draw, and she's his perfect canvas. By the time she yawns, a little later on, she's scooted closer and his arm is slung right over her shoulders.

She stands up, gently taking his hand, and she holds it until she can't reach anymore.

'Thank you,' she says into the night. He tugs her fingertips and she turns back to him.

'For what?'

'For sticking around,' she says with a shrug. 'Not everybody does.'

Wick tries hard to mask the rush he feels.

'You won't be getting rid of me that easily, Reyes.'

She looks him dead in the eye.

'I hope not.'

He winks at her, and she walks away, and Wick stays where he is for a good half an hour before he himself heads to bed. He's a little worried he won't be able to stop himself the next time he sees her; all he really wants is to kiss the hell out of her. He whistles as he strolls through Camp Jaha, and when he passes by where Raven sleeps near engineering, he feels his heart skip. _Fuck it_, he thinks, next time he might actually just go for it.


End file.
